


You Know Better Than That

by Tomstinkerbell



Series: Little [4]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Ageplay, Caretaking, Daddy Dom!Tom, Daddy Kink, Dominance, F/M, Insecurities, Submission, Talk of spanking, dd/lg, dominant Tom, reassurance, talk of punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6111367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomstinkerbell/pseuds/Tomstinkerbell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too short for a summary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know Better Than That

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty fluffy and G rated - besides the spanking references, that is.
> 
> Another exploration of Little's insecurities, a short drabble I've been endlessly tweaking - there's the beginning of another part to it, but I lost steam and couldn't really see where it was going, so that'll probably never see the light of day.
> 
> Anyway, I like it.
> 
> This is a part of the Little Series, the first part of which I have finished but not posted - did I mention that I compulsively edit things? I'm kind of hesitant about it because it didn't go exactly as I thought it would, but I'll put it up eventually.
> 
> BTW, I was picturing Ginger!Tom while I wrote this.

“You know better than that, little one.”

How I _hated_ hearing that phrase, especially since he knew exactly how to adjust the timbre of his voice to set my butt tingling from across the room. 

“No, Daddy,” I whimpered quietly, my hands automatically reaching behind me to cover my behind protectively, in anticipation of what that tone indicated that he might well decide to do – with no room for negotiation whatsoever, as always.

Minutes ago, I had come to stand in the doorway between our bedroom – where I had been watching cartoons and coloring on our bed – and the living room, where he was working – pacing back and forth by the couch, memorizing lines - and asked timidly, my voice barely above a whisper, “Do you mind if I come out here with you?” as I kind of peeped hesitantly around the doorframe at him, not wanting to be a bother to him _at all, ever_. 

Immediately upon hearing my voice, Tom stopped short for a second, mid-stride, his eyes focusing in on me with the precision of a laser as he gave me that potent caution, using that particularly powerful endearment he had for me sometimes that never failed to make me feel even littler than I already was. 

Then he quickly crossed the short distance between us and came to stand deliberately over me, chin tucked down, lips in an unusually unhappy, thin line, making me already start to fidget nervously in anticipation of a spanking I was sure was imminent as I had to quickly looked down at my bare feet, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze.

“Peanut.”

Just his favorite nickname for me, from his lips – said like that, deliberately filled with both love and no small amount of warning - was enough to cause me a nipple tightening shiver, and his next words proved that my impulse to protect my bum was not necessarily a wrong one. 

“I should paddle your bottom _right this minute_ for saying that,” he said sternly.

He didn’t sound angry – he almost never did. His patience with me was very nearly infinite, I’d found - which didn’t mean that I was never punished. I most definitely was. Just never in anger.

Instead, his tone was laced with a heavy dose of pure admonishment. To be chided like that - scolded like a naughty little girl, in that oh-so-proper accent . . . if I wasn't already soaking wet - as always around him - I would have been in that second!

He reached out a long finger to tip my chin up, and I swallowed hard when my eyes met his. “You know that I never, ever want you to be anywhere but right next to me, so I can keep a close eye on you.”

I bit my lip, still fidgeting a little. “Yes, Daddy . . . but –“ 

My little knew what my big did, of course - how dedicated he was to his work - and never wanted to distract him from it. Even after we’d been together this long, and despite his constant and very patient reassurances that she could _never_ bother him, she was still somewhat unsure about her reception sometimes – especially when he was so busy preparing for a role – and this one, in _The Hollow Crown_ , was a big one. 

And, even though she knew, in her head, that it was always all right – even expected – that she would come to him when she needed him – even if it was just for a kiss and a cuddle, to touch bases with him when we’d been apart, if in the same house – her heart still questioned that freedom, needing him to react _exactly_ as he had to the blatant evidence of her insecurities.

“No buts about it, little miss,” he said firmly. “I only left you in the bedroom by yourself because you seemed engrossed in the TV, but I can see now that that was a mistake on my part. You’re too little to be in there all by yourself.” He took me by the shoulders and turned me back towards the bedroom, giving my bottom a solid pat – that was more like a swat - to encourage me on my way. “Go get your favorite stuffie du jour and your coloring things and come play quietly in here with me. And put your slippers on or your feet will get cold.”

I hurried to do his bidding, hearing him cross the room to the wall that the kitchen and dining room shared, knowing he was turning up the heat so that I would be comfortable – he preferred lower temperatures than I did, but he never failed to adjust our environment to suit me rather than him.

It never failed to amaze me how often he showed me, so many times a day and in so many varied ways – with no fanfare, and no expectation of any sort of quid pro quo – that he put _me_ first. 

_Always_.

Because he was my very loving, very attentive, _Daddy_.


End file.
